Invincible

by Dawn Metcalf

  Joy slipped and fell. Ink grimaced. Monica wheezed.

  There was a burst of gold sparks outside the window.

  Joy looked up. Sol Leander loomed outside the ward. His cloak rippled in the wind, face furious.

  “Bring her to me!” he shouted through the magic and glass.

  “NO!” Joy screamed back. “GO AWAY!”

  “Joy—” Ink warned.

  “Now!” barked Sol Leander.

  Monica curled forward; a tiny wisp of sound eked out.

  She collapsed. Joy screamed again.

  Ink slashed the air, a complicated loop. A golden cascade disappeared with a zipping noise. The ward was gone. Sol Leander strode through the window as if it wasn’t there. Ink drew Joy back in an iron grip, as loving and firm as he had on the lip of Faeland, and just as unwanted.

  “Joy,” Ink said. “Don’t.”

  Sol Leander lifted Monica in his arms and carried her out onto the lawn through the illusion of walls. The grass was still wet from the sprinklers and caught the sunlight like dewdrops. He sank down on one knee, his cape settling in a blanket of stars as he set his hands along either side of her throat. His fingers fastened like claws.

  Joy jerked against Ink’s arms. Her voice tore loose.

  “MONICA!”

  The world blurred, a mess of light and stars and robin’s-egg blue. Joy could sense the grass through the window—the stones and earth and welcoming soil. She wanted to punch through the foundation, reach through the rubble and rock and ruin and grab the power that was there. Drink it in. Let it fill her. Let it burn her alive. Let everything burn! And then she would rise up against her enemies and BURY ALL THAT STOOD IN HER PATH TO HAVE HER REVENGE!

  Joy strained, her head pounding in agony. She ached for the cold and the iron and the blood of the earth, the taste of metal and stone and old, old ice. Her rage was without color, her ears echoed without sound, and it was only because she was trapped in Ink’s embrace that she failed to do any of it. He held her back.

  “Joy!”

  Her eyes snapped open, her fury dissipating, her body dropping to the floor as she watched the tiny white orbs fall into the grass. Sol Leander had severed the necklace.

  Monica blinked and touched her throat. Inhaling deeply, she sat up, coughing. She rubbed at the skin of her neck, looking pissed.

  “Ow!” she hacked and glared at Sol Leander. “That hurt!”

  Sol Leander’s eyebrows arched, nearly touching his high widow’s peak.

  “You can see me?” he said, fanning his fingers before her eyes. “You have the Sight?” He whirled about, pointing a finger straight at Joy, his cloak snapping in anger. “You gave her the Sight?”

  “What?” Joy croaked, her voice cracked and raw. Ink helped her to stand as the dining room tilted. She staggered against Ink. “What just happened?”

  “She is under his auspice,” Ink whispered into her hair. “He is sworn to protect her, but he could not come inside. He could not get past the wards.” His tone was mild censure. “He came to save her, Joy.”

  Joy pushed him away like a physical denial. Shaking, Joy ran out of the house to Monica’s side, placing herself like a rickety shield between her friend and her enemy.

  “Are you okay?” she gasped. “Monica?”

  “I’m fine,” Monica said with a wary edge to her voice. She coughed twice more. “I won’t say ‘peachy,’ but I’ll say ‘fine.’”

  Joy turned to Sol Leander, staring at him, unbelieving. “You saved her.”

  Sol Leander glared. “And you’ve damned her,” he said.

  Joy swallowed her guilt like wet cement.

  “Her life was never in mortal danger,” Ink said, stepping through the front door. The quill was still in his hand. He cocked his head to the side like a bird. “You know as well as I that the spell upon the necklace was not a noose, but a leash.”

  Sol Leander declined to meet his gaze, intent on one of the pearls.

  Joy held Monica’s hands. Her knuckles were pale. “What do you mean?” she asked.

  Ink glanced at them both. “It was a trap.”

  “A trap?”

  “A ruse,” he amended.

  Monica rubbed her neck angrily. The dark, pressurized spots had all but disappeared. “So they’re fake?”

  Ink picked a pearl from the grass. “No. They are real.” He glanced at Sol Leander, then at Joy. “The necklace was not designed to harm, it was merely a delivery method to ensure the enchantment would have time to imbue through the skin.” Monica stared at the pearl-littered lawn. Ink smiled apologetically. “It resisted your attempts to remove it, but my using one of the forged instruments of the Twixt forced the necklace to defensively constrict and for that, I apologize. The pearls are safe now that the spell has been broken.” He rolled the tiny globe between finger and thumb. Sol Leander said nothing as Ink placed it into Monica’s palm. “Restrung, they would make a lovely piece of jewelry.”

  “So...not Gordon.” Monica poked at the pearl.

  “It was a geas, a spell of obligation,” Sol Leander explained. “Once bound, you would have to follow its instructions to the letter. But such an enchantment has to be accepted willingly, hence why it came disguised as a gift.”

  Monica’s lips turned ashen. Joy’s fingers clenched. “You!”

  “Not I,” said Sol Leander. “I was forced to wait outside the wards before I could break the binding spell, which placed your friend in considerable danger—something I expressly warned you to avoid at all costs.” He twitched his cloak closer, a strangely familiar gesture. Avery had likely picked it up from his master. “As I suspected, your friendship proves to be as flimsy as your word.”

  “Hey!” Monica and Joy chorused in protest.

  “Nobody makes me do anything,” Monica said with heat. “I own my thoughts and my own actions and I don’t need to go blaming anybody else for my mistakes.”

  “A very human sentiment,” Sol Leander said. “However, someone went to considerable lengths to make sure you would be more than willing to do anything they wished. Anything.” He all but snarled at Joy. “Despite your purported values of freedom and choice, it seems that your actions have robbed your friend of both.”

  That stole some of Monica’s fire and most of Joy’s righteousness. The two of them moved a little closer together until their shoulders touched.

  “The Sight was her choice,” Ink said. “I witnessed its choosing. You, Councilex Leander, are the one obliged to intercede on her behalf. Joy acted out of loyalty, out of love.”

  Monica stared at the dark gentleman in the cloak of galaxies. “Wait. You’re Sol Leander? My guardian angel?”

  The Tide’s representative looked pained. His mouth twitched.

  Ink bowed at the waist. “Councilex Leander, may I present Monica Reid, one of your charges under auspice.”

  Sol Leander’s gaze flicked to Monica and then to the Scribe. “As you say,” he said with barely a bow. “I had no choice.”

  Monica’s fury simmered behind half-lidded eyes. “Nobody’s forcing you.”

  Sol Leander sneered, “On the contrary.”

  “Still,” Joy said quietly. “Thank you for saving her.”

  Monica glared at the vampiric representative of the Tide. “Yeah, thanks for that,” she said as she knelt down and began picking pearls out of the lawn. Ink sank beside her and helped gather up the tiny, cream-colored pearls, spilling them into her cupped palm. Joy was left standing by the bushes, feeling caught between worlds.

  Sol Leander swirled aside. His cloak shimmered, a mass of sparkling, spectral doom. His gaze speared Joy, radiating disapproval. She was hyperaware of her feet touching the grass; although the power seemed enticingly close, she did not dare attempt anything that might expose her. If the Tid
e ever found out what Ink and Graus Claude suspected, she was as good as dead.

  Sol Leander turned so that his cloaked back was like a wall, shutting out Monica and Ink sifting their fingers through the grass.

  “You must be more careful, Miss Malone,” he growled. “For her sake, if not yours.”

  Joy nodded. She knew it. She was playing a dangerous game with more lives than just her own.

  “Why did you do it?” she asked. “Save her, I mean.”

  Sol Leander blinked slowly and looked out at the quiet suburban street. “She is under my auspice, which makes her my duty and obligation, both to my people and yours,” he said matter-of-factly. “It was the oath I swore when I accepted my place in the Twixt—to preserve what was wrought between our worlds, to preserve the magic...at all costs.”

  Joy started. “Wait, you mean Monica has magic?”

  “Of course she has magic!” he sneered hotly. “Idiot child! What do you think this is all for? Do you have no idea what it means to be one of us, even now?” He gestured dismissively at the lazy neighborhood. “They all have magic—they are magic!—every one of those hidden places and mortals marked by our kind! They are our sacred responsibility and this one is mine!” He turned enough to glance at Monica, almost against his will. “She was an innocent victim of an unprovoked assault like my own—” His words shut off with a tightening of his lips. “It was true of her father before her, and his mother before him, and her sister before her.” His gaze flicked back to Joy. “And so it was, so it shall be. They are, all of them, mine to protect.”

  Joy couldn’t help it—she glanced at the downward-pointed arrow that slashed the side of his throat, its mirror image bisecting Monica’s left eyebrow. Monica was part of this—had always been part of this—carrying a piece of the world’s magic long before they’d ever met. A small part of her felt relieved that she hadn’t done this to her friend, but she also felt smaller. Whatever was in motion was so much bigger than her, than Monica, than any of them.

  The Destroyer of Worlds.

  How can I stop it? How can I fix this?

  “Do you know who did this?” Sol Leander hissed, interrupting her thoughts.

  “No,” Joy said. “I mean, it could be anyone—anyone who’s after me.” Joy glanced over her shoulder, feeling a chill creep down her spine. Her next words came slowly. “Anyone who would think to manipulate her to get to me.” To get at my secrets. To control me. To stop me. To blackmail me to obey. Joy remembered the slap of cold slush and burned skin and shuddered.

  “You suspect someone?” he said.

  “Yes.” She thought about Briarhook and Hasp and Aniseed.

  He mustn’t know!

  “But you aren’t certain,” Sol Leander said.

  Joy shrugged. “It’s a long list.”

  Sol Leander nodded. “You’ve made an impressive number of enemies in your short time amongst us,” he agreed. “Anyone at the top the list?”

  Joy glared at him. “The Tide.”

  “Ha!” Sol Leander laughed smugly. “Spite blinds you. The Tide may be many things, but we have a strict adherence to the rules. We are considered rather orthodox in our interpretation of the Twixt as it was meant to be, before it was corrupted by the Council after we were abandoned—”

  “After you forgot,” Joy corrected. “After everyone in the Twixt forgot all about the King and Queen and the rest of your people trapped behind a locked door between worlds.” Joy tried not to sound quite as smug as he had. “A door I managed to open. A spell I managed to break.”

  “As you say,” Sol Leander conceded. “But you are still a danger to yourself and others. And now you have managed to place your friend in danger, accusing my colleagues of the crime, all the while refusing to see what is right before you.” He waved a hand in Monica’s direction. “Someone very powerful, very arrogant or very desperate would dare such a thing at this sensitive time.” He cocked an arched eyebrow, his words like molasses—sticky and spoiled-sweet. “Sound like anyone familiar?”

  Joy felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Aniseed! Aniseed had to be behind this! She knew it in her bones. Joy tried to school her face but could feel the hot flush creeping up her neck, giving away her fears.

  “Well,” Joy said, trying to match his austere tone. “If we really wanted to know who did this, the easiest thing would have been to let the spell take hold and then simply follow her back to whomever cast it.”

  As the words left her mouth, Joy gagged. She felt sick. What am I saying? I’d never do that! She pressed the heel of her hand to her heart that wasn’t there. What was she becoming? More Folk than human? Cruel? Manipulative? Heartless? Was that what she’d need to be to stop Aniseed for good?

  Sol Leander laughed, startling her. “You surprise me, Joy Malone,” he said, tucking his long hands into his bell sleeves. “You truly are becoming one of us. Perhaps that is why the Council has granted you leniency. They must recognize your potential.”

  Joy paused, biting back her retort. “You mean the motion passed? They’re not coming after me?”

  His mouth twisted as if he’d tasted something foul. “As the new courier, you are protected under Council law. Your freedom of movement is therefore necessary in order to achieve the Return.” He turned his head, spearing her with his scathing stare. “Yet let me make this quite clear—you are a pawn in this game,” Sol Leander whispered. “And, through your meddling, your friend is now in play.” He clutched the edge of his cloak. “Therefore, I am charging you with keeping her safe, as you are most likely closer to the source of this threat than I.” He inspected the sky for a moment as if reading words in the clouds. “If she is as important to you as you say, then protect her. Protect her with more than what you have.” He leaned closer, the bridge of his nose angling over hers. “And know this, Joy Malone—if my charge is threatened in any way, I am bound by the rules to protect her by any means.” His eyes sparked with promise. “So I would be well within my rights to kill you.” He stood back with that barest of smiles and adjusted his cloak with sparkles and swirls. “Remember that,” he said, and, with a snap, Sol Leander disappeared.

  Monica and Ink stared at the spot where the Tide’s representative had been.

  “Well, he’s a charmer,” Monica said.

  “Yeah. Charming.” Joy’s mind was a whirl of words and fears. There was a kick of breeze, and Joy saw a flash of orange in the corner of her eye. She spun around, gasping, but it was just sunlight bouncing off the Japanese maple, more red than gold. She shivered in the August breeze. It was a warning. Even subconsciously, Joy knew what she had to do.

  “We’ve got to go,” she said. “And you’re coming with.” Joy grabbed Monica’s elbow. “Me. Us. Coming with us. Right now. Bring the pearls.”

  Monica frowned, cupping her hands together. “Waitaminute. What? Where are we going?”

  “We need more magic than we’ve got and I know where to get it.” Joy said, trading a quick look with Ink. “We’re off to see a wizard.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  JOY PUSHED OPEN the door to the C&P with its two-tone hello chime. Monica was at her heels and Ink at her side. He must have been invisible since no one in the convenience mart so much as glanced up as the three of them walked down the aisle of pretzels and chips. Joy hadn’t had the chance to tell him that his shirt was on backward.

  “What are we doing here?” Monica whispered.

  Joy grabbed a Clif Bar and a pack of gum. “Making a purchase,” she said, winding her way toward the front. “The gum is a code.”

  Monica pointed at the health bar. “Then what’s that for?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  Ink tucked his razor into his wallet as Joy approached the counter, placing her items on the mat along with a ten-dollar bill. Hai barely glanced at them as he rang up the total
, tugging the collar of his button-down shirt as he made change for the ten. He handed her a plastic bag and gestured toward the back.

  “He’s been expecting you,” he said to Joy. “And you,” he said in Ink’s direction. “But not you,” he said to Monica. She shrugged and took something from her purse, setting it on the counter with a click.

  “Behold my passport,” Monica said straight-faced.

  Hai stared at the ox bone blade before giving her a nod. “Okay, then. You, too.”

  Monica picked up the knife primly and followed Joy and Ink toward the Employees Only door.

  “Why did you bring that?” Joy whispered.

  Monica shrugged. “You said ‘wizard,’ I thought ‘magic’ and this is the only magic thingie I’ve got.” Joy didn’t bother correcting her. Monica pointed the tip of the dagger at Ink. “He could see you?”

  “No,” Ink said. “But he knew that I was there.”

  “So is he a wizard?”

  “No,” Joy said, grabbing the doorknob. “He’s a 3-D computer animation artist. His father is a wizard.”

  “Of course,” Monica said. “How silly of me.”

  Joy walked into the back room and pushed past the stacks of paper towels and flats of soda to grab the hidden lever behind the shelving unit. The back of the closet popped open.

  “Hello, busy girl,” Mr. Vinh said calmly.

  Joy led the way inside. Her shoes crackled on the woven grass mats. “Hello, Mr. Vinh.”

  “You have been keeping me very busy as of late,” he said, sounding pleased. “My services are in high demand.” His head turned slightly and he addressed the air. “And how is your glamour holding up, Master Ink?”

  Ink flicked his wrist, activating the glamour. “Very well, thank you, Wizard Vinh.” He bowed politely, which Mr. Vinh chose to return.

  “And how is your tea?” he asked Joy.

  “I haven’t had it today,” she admitted.